I went home to the little cabin, but did not sleep that night. Next day we were to take the party in a large canoe to one of those beautiful islands that abound on the coast, for an outing, and there I had a chance to talk with the President. I told him I had not slept that night, and that I did not wish to be ordained.
When pressed for my reasons, I told him, in the first place, that I had hoped to go to college for a time, as the brethren had agreed, and in the second place, I wished to pay a visit to mother and friends at home; and furthermore, I did not feel myself to be good enough to take such solemn vows, and would prefer to continue as a lay worker.
“Well,” said the good man, “I am pleased, brother, to hear you speak so frankly. Now, as to your going to college, I can appreciate your feelings, and we would like to see it, if it could be. But if you should go for one year you would want to go for four, and many of these poor souls will be gone by that time. You have the language of this people, which is more than a college can do for you, and we believe it better that you should go on in your effort to save and help them. We will see that you get a chance to go home; and as to your feeling an unfitness, that might be one of our strongest reasons for urging you on to ordination. You had better leave the matter to God and His Church.” I had no more to say.
Next Sabbath came, and the old Pandora Street Church was crowded to the doors with an enthusiastic audience, who listened attentively to a marvellous sermon by Dr. Punshon from the text, “And ye shall receive power.” At the close I experienced one of the most solemn moments of my life, when in the presence of the large audience I stood alone and gave myself in solemn vow to God and His work, and was ordained by the laying on of hands of the gifted President of the Conference and other ministers. This was in April, 1871.
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE BUNCH GRASS COUNTRY.[5]
“As laborers in Thy vineyard
Still faithful may we be,
Content to bear the burden